


Last Night of the World

by GabrielVincent



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Apocalypse, HUSBANDS FOREVER, M/M, Romance, Telepathy, cuban missiles, gay mutants, magnets and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:33:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabrielVincent/pseuds/GabrielVincent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night of the presidential address, Charles starts worrying about whether they're going to be able to withstand all the nuclear bombs and stuff. He's just being dramatic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night of the World

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS WAS A FILM I FELL IN LOVE WITH IN THE FIRST LIKE, TEN SECONDS OR SOMETHING  
> but yeah is this pairing perfect or is this pairing perfect  
> I mean, the bromance in previous films and comics is certainly undeniable, but First Class appeared to be more of a romance film than an X-Men film to me. So. I kind of had to write this.   
> There's so much stuff you can build upon in that film, so many moments unaccounted for, but I felt like I should start with something that could definitely be canon if you go in for the idea that it's perfectly acceptable they're shagging in secret. Or even not-so-secret.   
> I had fun writing this, though it's not particularly fun. Or interesting. I mean, I love comic books so I'm thinking in the future I'll write some epic adventure but for now it's just quiet times on Charles's posh sofa.   
> Yes the title is from Miss Saigon. PROBLEM?

Watching the president’s address had shaken everyone- Charles didn’t need to be a telepath to figure that one out. However expected it had been, hearing it said and confirmed was still something that made him wince, despite all the preparation. Erik, of course, had responded with his usualy abrupt, deadpan cynicism (although naturally _he’d_ call it realism) and left the room with everyone else. Charles stayed, sat on the brown leather sofa and watching the television screen long after it had gone blank. Tonight might be the last time he’d sit there. Tonight might have been the last time he’d see the rest of the team together. He wanted to feel confident, or at least as confident as everyone else did, but he simply couldn’t convince himself beyond that petulant thought that he was this _leader_ , that he was responsible for all these people- and he might well be leading them to their own destruction…

“Cheerful.”

Charles turned suddenly to where Erik stood, framed by the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning on the stained chestnut wood and almost smiling.

“Oh, bugger. Sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t think anyone was there.”

Erik laughed quietly, derisively, still the tone as if being scared was below him.

“Fortunate that it wasn’t someone else- you probably would have scared the life out of Raven if it was her. So, you’re terrified we’re all going to be killed by an atom bomb with your name on it. How-“

Charles raised a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. Erik’s face fell, tensing as he felt him about to enter his mind.

“ _Don’t_ -“

“So are you.”

Erik breathed out, looking away as Charles opened his eyes to stare up at him.

“This is where you’re supposed to tell me that everything is going to be fine and we’ll still be together. Or what you tell everyone else, that we’re going to be heroes, humans are going to adore us and everything will be perfect- but now I know you don’t think that, so you can’t.”

He’d never found himself unable to speak. Occasionally, Erik would catch him off-guard and he’d struggle, but he’d always think of something. Now, he paused, and felt the disappointment when Erik noticed _-you never pause. You always have something to say.-_ and there wasn’t anything more that he wanted than to rekindle that mad hope that Erik seemed to have that he would be able to tell him that everything was fine.

“…No, I can’t,”

He paused, Erik looked away, hating himself for feeling disappointed.

“But…I can tell you that I love you. And you can remember that for as long as we- no, for as long as anyone has.”

There was silence for a long time, Erik turned to contemplate Charles with an unreadable expression and Charles let him look, tried to make him understand without trying to get into his mind. Erik sighed, walking over to the sofa where he sat down beside him.

“You’ve never said that to me out loud before.”

“Did you think that means I meant it any less?”

“Never.”

Charles reached over and Erik let himself be pulled into his arms, leaning against his chest where Charles rested his head on Erik’s. They stayed quiet, remembering the feel of each other’s breathing, the smell of Erik’s hair embedding itself in Charles’s sense memory, the sensation of Charles’s fingers in his chained to Erik’s.

"You know…”

“You sound like you’re about to say something horribly optimistic, Charles,”

Charles smiled, he kissed Erik’s hair and felt affection rush through them both.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, or the next day, or in a year, or in fifty years- whatever happens, it doesn’t change the fact that we have right now.”

“An accute observation, Professor.”

“Say what you like, Erik, I’m unlikely to ever adopt your cynicism,”

“Don’t expect me to stop trying to make you.”

“I love you.”

Erik almost tensed, Charles detecting the change even though he couldn’t see his face. _I want to communicate that feeling but I want to find better words. If I just say that back it won’t convey how much I mean it._

Erik nearly spoke, but the words on his tongue needed more consideration. Charles left his mind, feeling like staying there would be taking the information Erik wasn’t sure he wanted to give yet.

“You are…everything that is the opposite of my existence before we met. Do you understand that, Charles?”

A flash of familiar images- his childhood, his mother, hands pulling him away, guns digging into his side as she went further and further, the fear when he pulled at the metal gate, not believing that his mother was really going to die until it was too late, horror turning to desolation as Shaw just laughed at him, learning hatred from that day forwards through years of things forced upon him, quietly accepting it all until his escape- the feeling of wanting nothing more than to have revenge, the feeling of having forgotten what it was like to feel happy, or warm, or affectionate. Charles had cried the first time he saw that, and it certainly hadn’t lost its affect. No matter what Charles tried to do for Erik, that part of him would still exist. He shut his eyes tightly and let himself back in.

This time, the images were different. They began in the same cold light- the freezing sensation and cold hatred when Erik had gone after Shaw’s submarine, but then something immeasurably different- Charles gasped when he realised it was him, reaching into Erik’s mind for the first time. Then, a sped-up version of all that had passed since then- when they were dry and sat down on the boat to talk properly for the first time, how Charles had reached out to touch his arm and Erik had winced, waiting to be hurt or grabbed. How it had felt when Erik realised no-one had made him laugh like that before, how Erik had drawn back immediately when Charles first kissed him, and Charles just sat back and laughed quietly for the fifteen seconds it took for Erik to work out that he could kiss him back. The inviting heat of Charles’s bedroom, following him in and closing the door quietly before lying down beside him, feeling every inch of his skin in dim orange lights. The realisation that he couldn’t remember feeling this warmth from anyone since his mother died.

Charles’s throat felt dry, he swallowed, trying to let all of these thoughts go through him, stay steady- he felt like he should have a headache with all the information, but when the information was this, it didn’t hurt at all.

“Yes, Erik…yes, I understand.”

Erik smiled, shifting so he could sit up next to him. Charles couldn’t stop watching him when he did that- rare, genuinely happy- his eyes would half close and he’d look nearly self-satisfied, just content, a flicker of peacefulness.

He leant over, kissing him gently like the first time he had, the memory of it now fresh on his lips. The only difference was that Erik didn’t pull away anymore -he hadn’t since the first time- now, he brought his hand up to rest on Charles’s neck, breaking apart only to whisper almost inaudibly -though nothing was inaudible to a telepath-

“I love you.”

 _Ich liebe dich, je t’aime, te adoro, Charles._


End file.
